Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Poetry Tuesday: Mommy Complex
[Mother's Finger - Blueberry Flavor. Thanks, Paul!]
Mother, your finger, your
Blueberry finger points,
A long, white packing peanut
Sweet and purple side to you
A blander melting white rice-ness:
Blank slate Cheeto.
Mother, I do not know you
I cannot hold your hand.
Your fingers broke off like lizards' tails
As I tried to keep the clasp.
Your useless gestures are rolling
Around in my mouth.
Mother, you are removed,
The bright fruit of you is fleeting,
The sigh and styrofoam remains.
I absorbed your indexes, have finely hidden
Any knowing I could do.
To chew is not to capture.
Blueberry fingers of Mother are
My own. I have eaten them